


No Place Like Home for the Holidays

by deinvati



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: A/B/O verse, Alternate Universe, Christmas Fluff, Family Reunion, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, M/M, OCs galore, Werewolves, heat cycles (mention), mpreg (mention)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 10:50:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13075308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deinvati/pseuds/deinvati
Summary: (Or a Christmas one-shot in the Pavlov's Bell 'verse)Arthur and Eames plan a big get-together for the cubs' first Christmas home from Uni. Even Will, surprisingly, comes back. The fact that Christmas coincides with the full moon shouldn't be a big deal, right?





	No Place Like Home for the Holidays

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sparknorth](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sparknorth).
  * Inspired by [Pavlov's Bell](https://archiveofourown.org/works/371991) by [Whisky (whiskyrunner)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskyrunner/pseuds/Whisky). 



> A Secret Saito Christmas fic exchange for [sparknorth](http://sparknorth.tumblr.com/)  
> Prompt: Werewolf
> 
> "Werewolf" in the Inception fandom to me means one thing: Pavlov's Bell. So, when I got the prompt, it sparked a re-read, which left me salivating for more, as usual, which prompted a wild hair to  _message[whiskyrunner](http://whiskyrunner.tumblr.com/) out of the blue and ask them for an embarrassingly large favor._  Seriously, I don't know what got into me. Whisky graciously A) replied to a total stranger, and B) agreed to let me use the carefully crafted and delightful world they created and write my own story.
> 
> So a huuuuuuge thank you to [whiskyrunner](http://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskyrunner/pseuds/Whisky), both for their original creation, which I love wholeheartedly, and for being a kind and generous person who let me play in their sandbox. I am so very, very grateful, and I hope I've done it justice.
> 
> For those of you who aren’t familiar with the original, whooooo, have I got a treat for you! It’s all the things you never knew you wanted. [Start Here!](http://whiskyrunner.tumblr.com/post/58212348397/hello-darling-im-going-to-start-the-pavlovs)
> 
> Also, thank you to [brookebond](http://archiveofourown.org/users/brookebond/pseuds/brookebond) for the beta and the cheerread! Thanks, love!

 

Arthur frowns, applying another layer of glue and blowing lightly, and then holding the sides together, angry at himself.

"Darling, it'll set up. Don't worry," Eames says softly as he comes into the kitchen, sliding the now-empty box of ornaments onto the counter.

"I told you I should have gotten one of those ornament organizers. You said it was a waste of money, remember?"

"I remember," is all Eames says, not taking the bait for the fight Arthur was sorely looking for, and it takes a bit of the wind out of his sails. He pushes out a breath and sets the plaster cast of Will's paw print aside.

"Sorry," Arthur bites out and Eames runs a hand down his back from the nape of his neck to the base of his tail, just like Arthur likes. "I'm just…"

He lets the sentence hang and Eames pulls him in for a hug, his nose under Arthur's jaw and Arthur takes a breath. He's been thinking of nothing but his children coming home and he's wound a little tight. Of course Eames noticed.

Then Eames' hands slide around his ass and squeeze.

"Eames," Arthur cautions.

"What?" comes the indignant squawk from where Eames is running his nose down Arthur's neck. "You're my husband. I'm allowed."

"Humph," Arthur grunts, and Eames pulls back to grin at him. Arthur can't help but soften when he looks at the familiar face in front of him. Arthur cups his scruffy jaw and kisses him because Eames would take him to the bedroom and get his mind off whatever he was stuck on, but today he needs to have everything ready.

"They'll be here soon."

"Right you are," says Eames, not the least bit upset at being turned down. "What else needs to be done?"

Arthur directs him to various tasks and they break out the gingerbread cookies Arthur baked last night, Eames sneaking one when he thinks Arthur isn't looking. He doesn't say anything because this time of year is one of his favorites and every little thing feels old and new again at the same time. He remembers setting out the same cookies and hanging some of the same ornaments when the cubs were small. He's pretty sure Eames snuck cookies then too. But now there's a new tree, a bigger tree, the better to fill the front hall of the Pendleton-Eames estate, and fancy decorations, and Arthur doesn't regret moving out here after Eames' father died, but sometimes he still needs to remind himself that this is home now, even if it's not the cubs' childhood home.

When he checks it, the ornament has dried enough for him to hang it on the tree with Leah and Tommy's paw prints, along with their baby handprints. The white circles have followed them through a lot of Christmases, and it was hard to decorate the tree alone this year, even though he pushed off Eames' offer to help.

It doesn't matter. They will be here soon, and this big house will be too full and too loud and will, once again, be a giant hub of coming and going, if only for a little while.

Arthur's nose twitches and he looks up to see Lady Pendleton-Eames enter the foyer.

"Oh, Arthur," she says, her eyes shining. "It's lovely."

He steps back and looks at the tree with her, his hands in his pockets. "It's a great tree," he says.

She smiles at him and puts a warm hand on his forearm. She looks at him knowingly. "They'll be here before you know it. Don't fuss. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Sure, I'll get it," he offers before she can. She is constantly wanting to wait on them, and for once, he thinks he understands. That doesn't mean he's going to let her, though.

Leah comes in first, a duffle bag full of dirty clothes, a backpack full of things to "work on" even though she's on break, and a folder full of sheet music she wants to practice while she's got the "good piano".

Arthur hugs her too hard.

"Daaad," she says, embarrassed and Arthur reluctantly lets her go.

"Hello, poppet," Eames smiles at her and she hugs him next.

"Happy Christmas!" Her ears twitch as she looks around, nestled attractively in her blonde waves. "Where are the boys?"

"You're first here," Eames says, "which means you get first use of the washer."

"Sweet," she says with a grin and heads to the laundry room, duffle bag hefted like she's a reverse Santa, bringing dirty underwear, stealing their Tide pods and leaving higher water bills. Arthur smiles, his heart feeling stupidly full.

"Darling," Eames warns, "you're getting misty-eyed over Leah's laundry."

"Shut up."

Eames smiles but doesn't say anything else, just rests his hand on Arthur's neck and tucks him close to his side. They both watch the snow start to flutter down out the big picture window.

Tommy is next, his unnecessarily large truck barreling to a stop right in front of the walkway and he meets Eames with a shout and a chest bump before they slap each other enthusiastically on the back. When it's his turn, Arthur can't help ruffle the artfully styled locks swept around and almost hiding Tommy's ears.

"There they are," he says. "I need the reminder I'm in there too."

Tommy grins and hugs him tight. "Hi, Dad."

"Hi, Tommy," he whispers, his heart seizing when Tommy's nose touches his neck like he always did when he was little. Then he's gone, calling for his grandma and asking where the food is.

"Can't believe he's alone," Eames muses, pulling Arthur out of himself.

"What do you mean?"

Eames shrugs. "I figured he'd have some she-wolf hanging off his arm, telling us how nice our house is, and how she's so excited to meet us, etc."

Arthur frowns at him. "Well, I can't say I'm sorry he doesn't. But I'm guessing it's because the whole pack will be here tomorrow night."

Eames looks confused for a moment, and then, "Ah, yes. Penny."

"Penny," Arthur agrees.

They're quiet for a time, watching the snow flutter.

It's 10:00 pm and Arthur's tail won't stop swishing back and forth against his leg when Eames comes and drags him away from the window with kisses and licks and takes him to bed to keep him from worrying. It helps, for a bit, and Arthur is grateful, wrapped up in each other in their bed, Eames' scent on everything and the definition of comfort and security. He also knows Eames left a message on Will's phone, which does little to ease his anxiety, but he appreciates the gesture anyway.

He's still awake at 1:00 am and his tail is still swishing when he hears the front door and whispered voices. He gets out of bed.

Arthur's nose wrinkles at the literal smell of wet dog and, at first, when he pauses at the top of the stairs, it's only because he keeps a gun in the drawer of the hall table there. But then he sees it's Will, and he's not alone.

"Will you shut up?" Will hisses at the taller boy, "my parents are not coma victims."

"Well, I hope your bedroom's on the other end of the house, then," comes the not-very-quiet voice of the other boy, and Arthur's hand twitches towards the drawer anyway.

"Yeah, that is  _not_  happening. I told you I didn't even want you to come with me," Will says, and Arthur relaxes a bit, his human ears straining to catch his words.

"You said  _you_ didn't even want to come."

"I didn't! But you weren't invited! Jesus, AJ, we've only been together for a few weeks; they're going to think this is way more serious than it—"

"You keep saying that, but I'll be as serious as you want. I'm serious as a heart attack."

Arthur frowns because "AJ" is grinning and he doesn't sound serious. He sounds like… well, actually, he sounds like Eames. And it had taken a while for Arthur to figure it out, but it turned out that Eames really was serious when he said things like that. Arthur clears his throat and flips on the hall table lamp.

The boys jump and spin toward him.

"Welcome home, Will," Arthur says, his voice quiet. "It's late, and people will be here early tomorrow. Your room is all ready for you."

Will nods and moves to start up the stairs, AJ following.

"And the guest room is ready too," Arthur says pointedly.

Will blinks at him and then his face darkens, but he turns and says, "Come on," and leads AJ down the hall instead. Arthur waits until he returns, a messenger bag slung over his shoulder as he tromps up the stairs, bypassing Arthur like he's invisible. Arthur takes a deep breath with his mouth open as he passes, even though he knows Will hates it. He can smell the snow, which must still be falling, and a spike of anxiety on his youngest son, and something else he can't quite place. And over all of it, the heavy scent of the unfamiliar werewolf.

"I'm glad you came home," Arthur says just before Will disappears into his room.

Will pauses with his hand on the door, hangs his head and murmurs, "Good night," and then he closes the door.

Arthur sighs and shakes out his cramped right hand, and Eames is there at his back, wrapping him in his arms and holding him as they look down the long, dark hallway and its closed doors.

"Come to bed," Eames finally rumbles in his ear. "They're all under one roof. You're going to sleep like a baby."

Arthur grunts but allows himself to be led back to their room.

In the morning, Arthur makes a large pot of coffee and another one of tea and sets out a help-yourself buffet of fruit, waffles, granola, yogurt, and cereal. Tommy is the first one down the stairs, snuffling into the kitchen and falling on the waffles like he's forgotten the taste of food. He's halfway through his second stack when Leah shuffles in, wearing baggy pajama bottoms and scratching her hair into a tornado.

"Gaaah, I'm so tired," she mock sobs. "Please tell me there's— oh thank god, coffee."

She huddles over the mug Arthur passes her, curling her lip at Tommy's waffles.

"Would you just look at all those carbs," she mutters and Tommy opens his mouth at her to reveal his half-chewed food. "God, Tommy! Gross!" she says, laughing as he moves closer to her chewing loudly.

"Good morning," AJ says politely as he enters the kitchen and Tommy almost swallows his tongue.

"Good morning," Arthur says. "Will isn't up yet, but this—"

"AJ Somerholder," Tommy says, his eyes full of wonder and oblivious to the syrup on his chin. "You're in my house."

AJ smiles and holds out his hand. "Sorry, I don't think we've met."

Tommy just shakes his hand, his mouth still slightly open and Leah raises her eyebrows and looks at Arthur.

"Ah, AJ, these are Will's siblings, Tommy and Leah," he says, trying to break the awkward silence.

"Um, it's Thomas, Dad," Tommy says, drawing himself up and finally dropping AJ's hand, which he's been shaking non-stop.

AJ seems to take it all in stride and settles himself on a barstool at the kitchen counter. "Nice to meet you."

"Would you like some waffles?" Arthur asks.

"Yes, sir, that would be very appreciated."

Arthur raises an eyebrow at the civility but pours the batter. "So, are you on the football team? Is that how Tomm— Thomas knows you?"

"Ah, yes, sir," AJ says again, helping himself to orange juice from the decanter, "on scholarship. Center forward the last three years."

Arthur blinks and looks at Tommy again, who is looking at AJ with something close to hero worship, and Leah, who is looking at her brother like he's lost his damn mind.

"Well." Arthur isn't quite sure what to say, so he goes back to the waffle iron, which is cooking infuriatingly slowly.

Eames strolls into the kitchen, whistling and moves around the kitchen to Arthur's side of the counter, stealing a pear and kissing Arthur on the neck. "Good morning, pet," he says. "What have we here? Did we acquire another child while I wasn't looking?"

AJ smiles charmingly and extends a hand. "Good morning, sir," he says, shaking Eames' hand. "I'm AJ."

"Eames," he says, and he's using his Pack Leader voice, so Arthur can tell he's at least a little impressed by the straightforward attitude and manly handshake.

"And I'm Arthur," Arthur says, extending his own hand. "I hadn't said before."

"It's great to meet you both," AJ says as Arthur slides a fluffy waffle on his plate. "You've got a really beautiful home."

Eames gives Arthur a look before saying, "Thank you, AJ. It's an old family home."

AJ nods. "My parents' house is the same way. They're having a pack meeting there tonight too."

Eames' interest is piqued, and Arthur's been part of this pack for a long time, but he's still not always sure what the rules are regarding other packs.

"Do I know your parents?" Eames asks, and what looks like a smirk falls across AJ's features for just a moment before he's back to respectful again.

"No, I don't think so, sir."

Arthur glances at Eames, who doesn't seem bothered, and asks AJ, "Are you going home for the full moon, or would you like to stay here?"

Everyone pauses and looks at Eames, including AJ, who stammers, "Ah, if… if that's okay with you, sir, sure, that'd be great. Thank you."

Arthur is trying not to gape at Eames, who hasn't extended an invitation to run with the pack to  _anyone_ that he can remember, and who is choosing the full moon right before Christmas and this boy they just met for the first one.

Will chooses that moment to enter the kitchen and freezes when everyone turns to look at him. Leah looks delighted as her eyes flick between Will and AJ, and Arthur wants to hand her a bucket of popcorn so she can watch the show.

"Uh," Will says, and seems disinclined to say anything else.

"Morning, Will," Eames chirps at him. "Want a waffle?"

Will unglues himself from the floor and shakes his head, heading for the barstool next to AJ. "No, thank you," he mutters at the last second, to avoid Eames' ire, and grabs a bowl. They all watch him shake cereal into it. He stops and looks back at everyone. "What?"

Arthur clears his throat. "You missed the introductions, so we took care of it."

Will adds milk with a look of derision. "Okay."

Arthur can feel Eames tense beside him and steps in because this is Christmas and if he can avoid even one fight, he will. "Eames invited AJ to stay for the full moon," he explains.

Arthur isn't sure how he was expecting Will to react, but the explosion of shock, anger, and hurt on his face, and him standing abruptly, the barstool screeching on the tile, isn't it.

"What? Why?"

Eames and Arthur exchange a glance and Eames answers, a polite smile to AJ. "Because we were being good hosts. AJ, you're more than welcome to stay if you'd like. Will, may I have a word?"

It's Arthur's turn to tense as Will sneers at Eames. "So I can get yelled at? No, thanks. I'm good. In fact, I'm full up on lectures for the rest of break. You can just save them."

He spins and leaves the kitchen, his bowl of cereal untouched, and after an awkward moment, AJ excuses himself, thanking Arthur for breakfast, and follows him.

Eames' fists clench, and, after a beat, he leaves out the back door, headed for the garage and his art studio. And, Arthur primarily suspects, his punching bag. Arthur flips the kitchen towel over his shoulder and sighs.

Leah reaches for Will's abandoned cereal. "Holy crap, it's good to be home!" she quips and starts shoveling it in. Tommy is too distracted staring after AJ to give her the jab about carbs Arthur is expecting and he sighs again and starts cleaning up.

Tommy notices and stuffs one last bite of waffles in before getting up.

"Not so fast," Arthur says from the sink. "That walk needs to be shoveled before people get here."

Tommy groans and Leah grins at him. Then she gives him a loud, open-mouthed chew of cereal.

"And move your car," Arthur calls after him. "People have to park somewhere."

His hand goes up in acknowledgment and he climbs the stairs.

Arthur checks his watch. He doesn't have enough time to have the Conversation with Will he so desperately deserves and still get ready in time.  He presses his lips together.

"And you," he says, pointing at Leah and she freezes with her spoon halfway to her mouth. "Find something to do before I find something for you."

"Yes, sir," she says, snapping off a cheeky salute before bouncing off the stool.

When Arthur checks again, he can't find any of them, but the small amount of snow that actually stuck has been cleared and Thomas' truck has been moved.

"Have you seen our children?" he asks Eames when he passes him in the hall. Eames raises his eyebrows.

"I saw the two that treat me like I'm actually their father in the family room. The one that treats me like an evil step-father I haven't seen all morning."

His voice is lighthearted but Arthur stops and puts a hand on his arm. He stands a bit closer and lowers his voice. "He'll come around. He's just got more cat in him. We take longer to warm up. Remember?"

Eames grunts and there's a rise of voices from the family room. Arthur pokes his head in to see all four of them in front of the Xbox, shoving and cheering each other on. Even Will is smiling. Arthur almost hates to stop them.

"Hey," he says, getting their attention. "Time to get ready. Everyone will be here soon."

There are grumbles and groans until Eames leans in behind him.

"You heard him," he says, the rumble of his alpha voice leaving no mistake who they were talking to. There's a chorus of, "yes, sir" from all four of them, even if Leah's includes a dramatic death flop backward. After they file out, Eames turns to Arthur and holds out his arms for inspection.

"How do I look?"

Arthur examines him with a critical eye, the generous cut of his suit jacket, the better for giving enthusiastic hugs, and wide splay of his collar and lapels, the better for immediate scenting, a sharp contrast to his own buttoned-up three-piece suit. Arthur runs his hands over his husband's shoulders anyway, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles.

"You look great."

Eames gives his very best wolfish grin and waggles his eyebrows. "Yeah? You're not so bad yourself, darling." He grabs Arthur around the waist and gives him a gentle nibble under the jaw and Arthur melts just like he always does. His tail twitches just like it always does, and nevermind their suits, Arthur is wondering exactly how many minutes they have before people start arriving.

"You boys are so adorable," says Eames' mother from behind them and Arthur flushes.

Eames just laughs and kisses his cheek with a loud smack. "That's all Arthur, Mum. He's adorable enough for the both of us."

"Stop," Arthur says, smiling, just as the doorbell rings. "Answer the door, Alpha."

Eames gropes him once more, in full view of his mother, just to make Arthur scowl at him before he practically bounds for the door and throws it open.

"Happy Christmas!" he crows, and the party begins.

The entire house is full to bursting, with gifts and food trays cluttering every surface. The cubs mingle and greet family members and give trite answers to how university is going over and over. But they are smiling and back slapping and hugging everyone and Arthur smiles on them all with fondness.

Arthur and Eames always host some kind of pack gathering at every full moon, but this one is so close to Christmas, so everyone made time to come out. Plus, with the triplets coming home, Eames assures him it's a big deal for everyone to see them back. The party lasts all day, but as soon as dark falls, the extensive mudroom at the back of the manor fills with shoes and clothing shoved into the cubbies built for this very reason, and the pack slips into their other forms to greet the rising moon.

Arthur is walking down the hill when he realizes he doesn't see Will or AJ in the throng gathering and he frowns. A new wolf would be greeted by everyone and he hopes everything is okay. He glances back up at the house and on a hunch, heads back.

He finds them in the mudroom, still in their human form, in the midst of an argument.

"Everything alright?" he asks.

AJ at least tries to calm down and greet him politely. "Yes, sir, just anxious to change." He flashes a tight smile and turns his back to remove his clothes. Arthur turns to give him some privacy and looks at Will expectantly. Will is glaring at the wall with his arms crossed and leaves out the back door without a word.

Arthur sighs.

"Sir?" AJ's voice stops him as he starts to follow. "Isn't Will a werewolf? Isn't… isn't he going to change?"

AJ looks curious, but there's an undertone of derision, or possibly disgust in his voice, and Arthur feels his protective parenting hackles rise. There the same ones that rose when kids made fun of Will's ears when he was little. Not his cat ears, which looked like his siblings, but his human ones, the ones that stuck out just a little too far. The ones just like his own.

He looks at AJ balefully. "If he wants to, I suppose. Will's special."

He follows Will out of the house, his black t-shirt and jeans letting him slink into the shadows, but Arthur can see in the dark. And, besides, he knows where Will will be.

Arthur settles on the rock next to Will, pulling the blanket around him, the same place they've spent every full moon since Will stopped changing. He pulls the notebook and pencil out of his coat and leans back with a sigh. Eames is below them, next to his mother, surveying the group, and they both get up to greet the lanky wolf ambling down the hill from the house.

Arthur and Will watch the pack surround the newcomer, their tails eventually wagging in greeting and Will crosses his arms.

"Not going down to introduce him?" Arthur asks, trying to keep any judgment out of his voice.

"No."

Arthur hums and opens his moleskin. "Didn't bring your sketchbook?" he asks, looking over. Will shakes his head, the muscle in his jaw working. Arthur lets it slide and turns back to his own notebook. He wishes he could make a quick sketch of the way Will looks right now, all skinny insolence and grumpiness. He's almost desperate to capture him here, as if he could somehow make him stay, keep him safe in this house, with the pack to guard him and their family to guide him. With a shake of his head, he turns the page and starts going over notes for the job he's consulting on in Nice at the end of the month. If he can get the research done in time, New Year's Eve is, unsurprisingly, a good time to get access to marks, and no one questions someone passed out in the coat room.

He works with his phone in one hand and his pencil in the other, keeping a lazy eye on his cubs, because the pack will tell him if something is wrong. He can see Thomas trying to wrestle with Penny, and Leah sniffing something off to the edge of the woods with Theo, and he feels like this is a stolen moment in time. It's not exactly like Christmases past, because time doesn't go backward, but it feels like one more regular one snatched from the jaws of the impending future. His babies are growing up. When Will shivers, he casts a shrewd parental eye on him, just for old time's sake.

"Need a jacket?"

" _No_." Will snarls, and Arthur lets it roll off of him. The smell in the air, the crackle of ozone and the overwhelming scent of werewolf is enough to keep Will's back up. He understands.

Then, the wolf that smells like AJ trots up the slope to their rock. Will tenses even further and glares.

"What do you want?"

Arthur flicks his eyes between the two of them, suddenly wishing Eames were closer.

AJ drops down like he wants to play, his tongue lolling, and Will rolls his eyes. He scoots off the rock and shoves his hands in his pockets and starts walking back towards the house.

Then AJ is there in front of him, blocking his way and pushing him back with his large body. Arthur cocks his head and puts his phone and notes away. When Will tries to push past him anyway, AJ's demeanor changes. In a flash, he's posturing at Will and a low rumble starts in his throat. The sound is loud in the clearing, even to Arthur. The closest of the pack prick up their ears and turn to see what the trouble is.

"Why is he doing that?" Arthur asks as he too gets off the rock.

"How should I know?" Will spits. "He's a dumb dog."

AJ's ears lay flat and his fur stands up and he snarls and lunges, his muscled shoulders knocking Will off his feet.

"Hey, woah now," Arthur says, going to stand in front of Will while he gets up, and Eames comes barrelling forward, putting himself between Arthur and the wolf. Then Thomas and Leah are there beside him, lips curled back, defending their brother.

Will stands, then slowly takes off his t-shirt, stripping it off with one hand and with a graceful ripple, shifts. He drops down to all fours, stepping gingerly out of the jeans that have fallen at his feet and his family pack parts for him to come closer to AJ.

He is sleek where they are ruffled, black where they are red and tawny, and he still has his tabby stripes on his flanks and tail, even though Arthur hasn't seen him change since he was about 8 years old. He's big, bigger than Arthur assumed he would be, and as he draws even with Eames he stands taller than him. His head is rounder than the other wolves, a beautiful mix of lupine and feline, wide paws gripping the grassy earth and, yes, razor-sharp retractable claws. His lips curl up, the long canines of his feline ancestors along with the second, deadly werewolf canines flashing in the moonlight. He's beautiful.

Arthur realizes he's been staring with his mouth open as soon as he hears the warning growl from AJ, but not soon enough to do anything about the explosion of fur and fangs that comes for his youngest son.

Will meets AJ lunge for lunge, his thin claws finding at least some purchase in the rough coat as blood starts to flow on AJ's flank. Grappling with his siblings as kids was necessary practice, but AJ clearly has more experience in a fight, and it starts to show. Will's sinuous twists and deflections of attacks begin to slow. He takes a few swipes to his shoulders, a lucky grab around his vulnerable looking throat, and a cuff to the face before Arthur starts to wish he had his gun. He doesn't bring weapons to pack gatherings anymore, hasn't for years, but of course he should have thought of it tonight. He should have brought it anyway, as redundant as it might have seemed.

Arthur isn't the only one who is feeling helpless. Eames paces the outskirts of the clearing that had been made for the two, snarling low in his throat and never tearing his eyes away from the two figures in the middle.

AJ doesn't stop advancing, and Will doesn't back down, even as he struggles to defend himself, never mind make any kind of attack. Arthur's stomach is in knots as the fight seems to go on and on, and then, just like that, it's over. AJ stands over his son, one long, thin foreleg clenched in his massive jaws and Will yelping as the teeth sink in further to keep him down. Will rolls like he wants to get back up, but finally he lays still. Then, slowly, like it pains him to do so, he lifts his chin in submission. Arthur could swear he sees a gleam of triumph in AJ's eyes before he snaps his jaws shut anyway, the crack of bone reverberating through the meadow.

It's like a shot went off. The entire pack rushes forward, Eames at the front, growling and snarling, and out for blood. But Eames doesn't get there first. Thomas lunges, grabbing AJ by the throat as Leah falls on his flank. Arthur sees Eames' teeth shred AJ's ear before the entire pack surges around him, blocking his view.

There's a rocking wave of fur and he doesn't know what is happening, and he can't get close enough to Will to see if he's alright. It's maddening.

"Will! Eames!" Arthur shouts, although it's useless. He can't tell anyone apart in the frenzy. "Jesus Christ, don't kill him; he's just a kid."

There are rules, even Arthur knows that, which AJ clearly broke. As a guest of the pack, they had every right. But Arthur hopes to god Eames is somewhere in that primal wolf brain, realizing that killing a teenager is not, in fact, in his son's best interest. There's a flurry of movement as one wolf scoots out of the pile, AJ from the lanky look of him, and runs for the hills like his life depends on it, three wolves at his heels. The rest of the pack circles, Eames, Thomas and Leah at the center.

"Will!"

Arthur pushes past the wolves in his way because his boy is in there somewhere.

He finds him already shifted back, curled on the cold ground with Eames literally standing guard over him. Eames bares his fangs when Arthur approaches, but when he recognizes Arthur's scent, reluctantly steps away and lets Arthur get close.

"Will!" he says, dropping to his knees. "Did it heal? Are you alright? Is it still broken?"

He can hear the panic in his own voice, and he's trying not to jostle Will, who is grimacing but sitting up.

"I'm okay. It's sore, but I can move it." He tries to rotate his wrist to prove it and hisses in pain instead.

"Fuck," Arthur says. "Okay, into the house. Come on. We're going to get you to a hospital."

"Dad." Will frowns. "I'm fine. It's maybe sprained. I don't need a hospital."

Arthur presses his lips together to keep the "I'll be the judge of that" from bursting forth, but he will absolutely be the judge of that.

He goes and grabs Will's clothes and then helps him off the ground. Arthur wraps his coat around Will and helps him back to the house. Eames and the cubs follow him and at the door, he stops and glares at Eames. "Not you. Your job is to make sure that fucker doesn't come back."

Eames doesn't even bother looking at him as he pushes past him into the house, which is generally off limits to wolves, and paces in front of the couch in the living room. Arthur frowns at him, but doesn't bother fighting with him, just sits Will down on the couch and stands back as Eames, followed by Thomas and Leah, nose over his wrist and give him tentative licks.

"I'm alright," he says to them each in turn, patiently holding it up to show them until they stop whining continuously.

Arthur takes Will's wrist in his hands, running his fingers over the swelling, checking for breaks even though he's sure Will is right, and then goes to get an ice pack from the kitchen. When he comes back, he helps Will pull on his clothes so he'll be a little more comfortable. "Will. Look at me." Arthur sits and turns Will's chin towards him. "What. The hell. Was that. You tell me right now because that asshole is about to find out how terrifying I can be."

Will shivers. "No, don't. It was my fault," he says, looking at the floor. "He was just doing it to get back at me. I was a prick to him…" Will shakes his head, clearly embarrassed, and glances at the three wolves around him. "Can they understand me?"

Arthur blinks at the change of subject, then looks at them too, their large heads swinging as they paced, still clearly concerned, still trying to protect him. "Not specific words, I don't think, but the sentiment, the feelings, yeah. Why? Do you understand? When you're shifted?"

"Yeah."

"Always?"

"Yeah."

"Huh. That's…" He stops when he realizes Will's shoulders slump further, just one more thing that makes him different. "That's really cool, Will," he finally settles on. "And you can shift back, even with the full moon, that's impressive. Your father can't do that."

Will isn't convinced, he can tell, but shrugs anyway. "Cool, Dad? Really? The 1950s called. They want their lingo back."

Arthur blinks and then fixes Will with his fiercest scowl, the one that made architects and extractors think twice. "Watch it, daddy-o, I'm hip. I can dig it. I speak jive."

Will cracks a small smile at the reference to their favorite movie and looks at Leah, sniffling his hand. He pets her carefully between the ears and she sets her head on his leg with a loud sigh. Eames and Thomas crowd closer and Arthur stands. He builds the fire a bit higher and grabs blankets from the chest in the corner.

"How would you feel about sleeping out here tonight? I don't think these three are going to leave you alone, even if you are fine."

Will shrugs again and Arthur takes it as a yes. He works on building a "bed" on the floor, big enough for two people and three wolves while he tries to figure out how to bring up the subject of AJ again. He grabs pillows and cushions from the couches and arranges them in front of the fire. They'd done this a few other times, he can remember, one full moon when Tommy'd been sick and couldn't run with the pack, and once when Arthur had just gotten home from a job and was jet-lagged to hell and fell asleep on the couch as soon as he'd walked in the door. That time, he'd woken to a pile of fur and Will on the floor, and had slid down next to them and gone back to sleep.

"Dad?"

Arthur stops and looks at his youngest son.

"I… wanted to talk to you. Just. Just you."

Arthur comes back and sits down, moving Eames' head out of the way and then petting him idly when he sits between Arthur's thighs.

"Okay. You okay?"

"Yeah." He talks to his shoes. "But a few weeks ago I wasn't. I thought I was sick, because, like, everyone can't feel like that. I was going to call Dr. Susanne, but then I met AJ. We started talking and hanging out more, and he said…" He fidgets and Arthur counts in his head to stop himself from talking. "He thought maybe... I was going into heat?"

Arthur feels the world slam around him, because oh my god his poor son. "Jesus."

"Yeah."

"Oh, Jesus, Will, I'm so sorry."

Will looks confused. "Why are you sorry?"

Arthur runs a hand down his face and wants to punch something. Or throw up.

Eames whines.

Arthur drops a hand back on his mane and makes himself calm down. "I should have known. Or talked to you about it at least. I thought," he frowns at himself again, "I thought if you were going to have heats, you'd have started already, so I just assumed… god, I'm so sorry."

Will shrugs again. "It's okay," he says to his shoes again, and he's got his fingers twined in Thomas' fur, although he'd never admit it.

"It's really not, but what happened?"

Will turns bright red and Arthur counts in his head again, keeping his face as neutral as he can.

"I, uh, made AJ help me out," Will mutters, almost too quiet for Arthur to hear.

" _Made_  him?" Arthur asks, shock and dread in his stomach. "Will! We talked about consent, what do you mean you  _made_ him?"

"No, not like that! He was… willing…"

Arthur rolls his eyes. "I bet. Listen, you can't just do that to the closest hot guy you can find."

Will's head duck and desire to look anywhere but at Arthur tell him he's right on the money. Then something else occurs to him. "Wait… he didn't tie with you, did he?"

"What?" Will looks insulted. "God, no, Dad. Jesus. It was just… we just..."

"Just sex?" At Will's nod, Arthur sighs. "Look, I know what you're going through. Did you know I used to have heats too?"

Will blinks up at him. "You did?"

His voice sounds hopeful and Arthur realizes how long it's been since he's heard that particular inflection in his son's voice. He softens. "Yeah. I did. They suck, but they're seasonal, about four a year. How long did this one last?"

Will is back to looking at his shoes and turning scarlet. "Like… all day."

"So...24 hours?" Arthur asks.

"Um. Like, 18?"

Arthur frowns. "Okay. The next one is going to be worse."

"Worse!?" Will says, practically coming out of his seat. "What?"

Eames stands up at Will's squawk and Arthur puts his hand on Eames's mane until he calms down. "It's okay," he says, not sure who he's calming. "You can get an app on your phone to track your cycles and know when it's coming. I'll get you some supplies before then. It'll be okay."

"They have an app for that?"

"Mmm," Arthur hums, petting Eames. "For menstrual cycles, but they work just fine."

"What." Will sounds like he wants to throw up.

"You'll also need to be sure you're using protection."

Will covered his face with his hands. "Mfjmawawfwmmf."

"You  _are_ a werewolf," Arthur explained, "but just because you can't get an STD doesn't mean you can't get pregnant."

Will uncovers his face and looks at Arthur like he's an idiot. "Dad. I'm not going to get knocked up."

Arthur gives him a look. "Yeah? Well, that's what I thought too."

Will obviously hasn't ever thought about that before and he blinks at Arthur. Arthur looks down at Eames, seated on the floor and watching the two of them and Arthur runs his hands over him, reassuring him with his body language. "Turns out, though, best thing that ever happened to me," he says, and Eames looks steadily back at him. Arthur smiles, his full dimples on display and Eames opens his mouth and lets his tongue roll out, the feral wolf making way for a big dopey dog grin.

Arthur runs Eames' velvety ears between his gentle fingers, a silent signal between them when he's in this form, and then, because they're watching him, he does it to Leah and Thomas too. They both lap at his hands with their warm tongues. Then, just to be a brat, he reaches for Will's ears too.

Will, predictably ducks out of the way. "Nope, no, uh-uh," he laughs, pushing at Arthur's hands.

"What?" he says. "That's what every parent does to their kids!"

Will snorts and rolls his eyes, but he's laughing and Arthur grins at him.

"You know what the best part of not shifting is?"

Will looks up from where he's adjusting his ice pack. "What?"

"More eggnog for us. You want some?"

"Uh, sure."

When Arthur comes back with two cups of eggnog in the ridiculous moose-shaped glasses because Eames is an idiot, Will is in the blanket nest on the floor surrounded by three large wolves who have all floofed down around him.

Will takes the eggnog in his good left hand and Arthur sits cross-legged next to him. They watch the fire silently for a few minutes, Eames' coat comfortably twined in his fingers.

"Hey," Arthur says quietly. "You know this pack would do anything for you, right?"

Will fidgets and looks like he's really thinking about it. "Yeah," he finally agrees. "Yeah, they probably would, huh. I guess I never really believed that before tonight."

"They're outside, keeping an eye on us right now." Arthur watches him. "I know what it's like to feel different and alone." He waits until Will meets his eye before he continues. "But even if you  _are_ different, you are  _never_  going to be alone. We are your  _family_." He looks down at Eames, who is relaxed, but alert. Keeping guard. "And that's what your father means when he says, 'Family comes first.' It's not about not letting you go out and do stuff you want to do or forcing you to come home for break." Because even if Eames hadn't told him what he'd said on Will's voicemail, he had a pretty good idea.

He holds his glass out to Will. "Merry Christmas, Will. I'm glad you're in my family."

Will clinks his glass to Arthur's with a small smile. "Yeah. Yeah, me too. Happy Christmas, Dad."


End file.
